


cosmos as the inverse of chaos (but we're all drinking to both)

by clytemnestras



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Young Avengers
Genre: 5 Times, Implied Relationships, Multi, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7266997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clytemnestras/pseuds/clytemnestras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drinking - to party or otherwise - Kate Bishop style: a story in five parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cosmos as the inverse of chaos (but we're all drinking to both)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ladymercury_10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladymercury_10/gifts).



> for the prompt: kate bishop + any, the superhero's guide to clubbing. this took me an outrageous amount of time to finish.
> 
> a/n: involves underage drinking scams, david adopting kate as his main bro, sloppy!drunk clint, bonus supportive!loki and some femme fatale spy fieldwork. some violence. flagrantly ignores secret wars.

**2/12**

 

Kate comes through the door with headphones firmly in place, dropping her keys onto the sidetable and going utterly still when something shifts along the corner of her vision. She leans down toward the table feeling for her keys and sliding the sharpest one between her fingers when someone grabs her around the waist and hurls her - fast, too fast - into the living room.

Which, it turns out, contains most of her team decked out in club gear lounging all over her furniture.

America scrubs a hand down her face. “For fuck’s sake Tommy.”

Tommy grins and crawls off of Kate. “Hey Hawkeye. Heard your birthday got shafted because of the whole end of the world thing. And then I guess New Years happened and now you’re all grown up with no hangover to show for it. Puts us to shame, really.” He holds out a hand to her and she pulls herself up, eyebrows raised.

“You all realise it’s Valentines, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Billy says, twisting in Teddy’s arms, nosing along his chin. “We’re doing the Anti-Valentines thing, right?”

Kate opens her mouth to speak. “Don’t bother, we’ve already hammered that one to death”, David whispers, “they’re refusing logic.”

“Right.”

America pushes the boys out of her way and grabs Kate by the shoulders. “Chop chop, Princess. We’re all ready to go - grab a dress and get going!”

Her dress is split all the way up her waist on the left side, flashing long lines of skin when she moves and it’s a stark, strange moment that shocks Kate still, not looking but holding her hands down at her sides as though it might stop her from touching to check that all that bared skin is real and not an illusion.

Kate finds herself being shoved halfway up the stairs without entirely realising.

*

“Show it to me again”, Kate says, reaching across the table to touch the fake driver’s license Billy flashed at the bouncer. “You guys and your criminality, you’ve been holding out on me.” She _tuts_ at them.

Teddy grins at her and switches into a PSA voice. “This country is not fun for the young gay teen, Kate, we do what we must.”

“Besides”, Tommy says, nudging her, “Billy’s all magic and shit, couldn’t pass the opportunity up, right? We’re an enterprising bunch.”

America knocks back a shot. “They’re morons is what they are.” She slides a shot across the table. “Drink up Princess, it’s your night.”

Kate picks up the glass, tips her head back, and drinks. The boys whoop and Tommy leans over for a high five, which she grins at and complies.

David tips their heads together. “One down, Hawkeye. A lifetime to go.”

Kate swats him on the arm. “You need to lighten up. I declare it ‘David is not allowed to be emo’ day.”

“Here here”, Billy says quietly, and Kate kicks him under the table. “You too, Witchy-boy. No. Angsting. Allowed.”

Teddy flicks Billy’s nose. “Apparently Kate missed the memo when she was out playing Katniss in Bed-Stuy. Angst is very hot right now. Trust me, I’m absolutely impartial.” He nods and cups Billy’s face, leaning in and America makes a squicked sound.

“One day I will be totally free of boy-kissing. One day.” She flutters her eyelashes at Kate, raises and eyebrow and picks up another shot. “To the future”, she says without breaking eye contact.

Tommy takes the opportunity to leap onto the table. “To the future!” He yells, and everyone raises their glass.

Even the other patrons of the bar cheer in response.

“Didn’t this used to be a gay bar?” Teddy asks.

“No dear”, Billy says, deadpan. “That was the -”

“No, no, no, shut _up_ no sordid tales, my innocent ears can’t handle it.” Tommy flaps his hands around, squawking, and with everyone laughing Kate feels light and wonderfully at home.

*

Kate’s sloppy when she stumbles to the bathroom, every bodypart but her legs betraying her but she walks straight, feeling dizzy and glorious. The water she splashes against her face is cold and _awesome_ when she feels sweaty and the nice kind of drunk - the one that isn’t to escape her family in a haze - and she holds onto the edge of the sink whilst the world stops spinning.

“Are you having a good night, Katie?”

Kate whirls around and  _oh._ There’s Loki, still mostly grown, leaning against the bathroom stall.

“I, uh. I didn’t expect -” She stammers, water still running down her neck, sobriety beginning to take over.

Loki steps forward and touches the bracelet on her wrist. “All of us are growing up too fast, Kate Bishop, not just me.” He smiles at her and she raises an eyebrow.

“I’ve been through a lot Loki; a lot of real-world shit and unlike my teammates out there I _do_ know people. I know you’ve been pulling strings behind the scenes for us, and I know damn well you didn’t _want_ to leave.”

Loki knocks his hip against Kate’s and Kate pouts.

“I also may have had a heart to heart with David, once or twice.”

He nods as if to say _ah, that makes more sense,_ and tucks the hair away from her face. His casual clothes are loose and brush softly against her bare skin when he leans in close. “Then you probably know my previous attempts at this have been met with little success.” He moves in slowly, slow enough that Kate can raise her hand and press it against his chest, holding him back just enough. It still surprises her that he kisses her cheek.

“Smooches”, he says and she shoves him back, laughing.

“That was a low blow, mister.”

“So was what Noh-Varr did. I’m surprised Miss Chavez hasn’t scattered his body parts across the multiverse.” He smiles fondly, then lets a gentleness sweep over his face. “But I digress - you must take care of them, Kate, they’re sorely lacking in the charismatic leader department. And you must take care of you, too.”

Kate straightens up and socks him in the arm. “You too, Loki. I’m gonna miss guessing who you’re going to lie to or make a pass at next. As far as I’m concerned, you’re spot remains free.”

Loki holds her wrist in his hand and spins her towards the door. “And you have a party to return to. Drink, be merry, piss the night away et cetera.” He drops her hand and frowns. “Oh, and under no circumstances tell America what transpired here.”

“We’ll see.”

*

Kate detours to the bar before returning to the group but America still finds her there.

“Where’ve you been, Princess? Thought we might have lost you - and in the state they’re in -” she nods towards the decidedly rowdy rest of the team, laughing and slumped against one another, “we’re not especially fit for an intergalactic incident.”

“You don’t seem very affected by it.” Kate feels America’s arm slide against hers on the bar, hailing the barman over.

“My tolerance is legendary - but we can sure change that. Your shout.”

Kate slides her credit card and driver’s licence out of her pocket, rubbing a small circle over her grainy face. Slapping it down on the bar she hooks her arm with her teammate. “Miss America, it would be my pleasure.”

 

**5/19**

 

The wig is itchy, and it sucks because Kate could have bought one twice as soft with one phone call before breakfast if she hadn’t been drafted in last minute.

“Discomfort breeds competency, Katherine.” Nat smiles at her, all teeth and red lipstick, and the act of swallowing becomes difficult. Awe and fear mix nicely in her guts whenever Widow drops in. Lovely woman. Fucking terrifying.

“You hear that, Hawkeye? No more complaining about my car.” Clint sticks his tongue out at her and Nat stands on his foot as she moves to fix her own hair in a car wing mirror.

Jess pats him on the shoulder. “Oh sweetie, that car could breed new species.”

Clint groans at them all. “Is it bully Clint day? No wonder Bobbi shafted you guys. You’re _mean_ today.”

Kate flicks at her wig and socks him in the shoulder. “Yeah, I’m sure if she were here Bobbi would _totally_ take your side and defend the Ford Deathtrap.”

He mumbles something into his sleeve and checks his ammo, and everyone else is doing a quick stock check, patting down their dresses, feeling the darts tucked under their wigs, confident and prepared and utterly comfortable with the impending danger. It’s one thing firing down on a villain, it’s another entirely to crawl into the lion’s den, equipped only for possibilities and sweating bullets as the plan unfolds. Panic is shuddering through her and Nat is smiling at her reflection in the blade of her knife. They all make her feel hopelessly young.

“What was that, Hawkguy?” Kate asks, easing all her bravado into a slightly upturned mouth.

“I said _it’s not a Ford._ Can we just do this?” He scowls at her in particular and she flicks him on the elbow.

“Go team”, Kate says, and Nat leads them all inside.

*

The mark is eyeing the cutout of her dress that sweeps the curve of her waist and hips and Kate is still smiling despite the ache in her fingers to punch him out.

She's done humouring skeezes

“History is really delightful to study,” Kate smiles at him, and casts her eyes down, feigning coyness.”But I'm going to get another drink, would you like something?” She hops to her feet, eyes following him following her. She glances away, watching for Nat curled up against another man in business suit, not looking Kate's way, not looking at anything but the laughing face of the man she's ensnaring. She looks devoted. She's entirely too good at this.

The man beside her slides a rough hand up her thigh, breath close to her ear and - he’s getting higher and higher, dangerously close to the garter belt holding her knives. Kate swallows, smiles and stops his hand.

“Allow me, darling, what are you drinking?” His breath is a hot, wet constant on the skin of her throat. She wants to scrub herself clean. She wants this to end.

“Uh, a soft drink should be fine _._ ” She feigns a blush, eyelashes fluttering, face cast down. He licks his lips and puts his thumb under her chin, turning it towards his.

“Nonsense, what do you _really_ want?”

She can feel her heart in her throat, pressing tightly and hammering away, a bomb detonator of a pulse. “Maybe a small gin and tonic water?”

His smile is less relieved and more wolfish, but Kate can’t care. _Focus, focus, focus._ He slides from his chair and makes his way to the bar, far enough away that their booth seems shrouded in shadow once he’s a few steps away. He left his coat, only took the wallet.

This should be _easy_.

Kate is slightly less than optimistic. She digs feels up the coat, slipping her hand into the inside pocket. _Faster, Kate._ She catches something hard and small, plastic. Thumb drive.

_Gotcha._

She eases it out of the pocket and slides it into her garter, beside one of the knives, sweat rolling down the back of her neck. When he comes back she conjures a smile from nowhere and leans in close to him, one hand on his arm, cheek almost brushing his. “I’ll be back in a sec, just need to use the ladies room.”

He slides a thumb along her cheek and smiles. “I’ll be waiting.”

Kate scans the room. Natasha has her hand sliding into her mark’s shirt. The bathrooms are downstairs, near to the bar and tucked away beside the offices. She can do this. Easy. The stairs should be a task in her heels but this is an old game for her, knowing where to balance weight and maintain speed means she’s golden. She rests against the bathroom door for a moment to catch her composure, then raps the on the wall three times.

One gloved hand pokes out of the office door. “Good going, Kate.” _Jess._ “Go back now, don’t let him get suspicious. When you get the signal, run.”

“Right.”

Jess doesn’t say anything else. Kate knows a dismissal when she gets one. Teamwork sucks. Teamwork where she doesn’t get to shoot things most definitely sucks.

*

The mark is breathing all over her face, body curved in towards hers, the whiskey on his breath decidedly _not_ matching the amount he’s meant to have drunk. It’s a siren in her head: _danger, danger, danger._

But she’s used her one get-out clause already, and he’s not interested in buying her drinks. His hand is inching up her thighs again, mouth drifting along her shoulder, up her neck.

“It’s not often a girl as enchanting as you demands my attention. I am feeling very lucky.”

Kate tilts her head away. “I know the feeling.”

She watches the room, again. Clint is watching out for Jess because she’s the one with the info, but he’s got a look on the cameras, and Nat has made her drop, too. Kate can’t be the arm-candy any longer, screw Jess’s plan.

As a pretty alright guy likes to say: plans lock you in too much. It’s all constraint.

_Time to add an element of chaos._

“Oh my god, is that -” She looks back at the mark. “That - my friend is over there, I haven’t seen her since I left for college. You wouldn’t mind if I went to say hello, would you?”

He chuckles in her ear, hand squeezing on her thigh. “Of course not. Why don’t you introduce us?” _Shit._

“Oh, of course.” She takes his hand from her thigh and tangles their fingers, leading him towards Natasha.

“Hanna, it _is_ you,” she turns towards the mark. “I told you. God, how have you been?”

She leans in for an embrace, kissing the corner of her mouth, tapping three times on Nat’s shoulder. _Abort._

“Tess,” she says, searching Kate’s face, watching how the mark is tracing her collarbone, not paying mind to what’s happening. “God, I’ve missed you so much. I can’t believe you’re here.”

The two men appraise one another, flickers of recognition. Natasha’s one reaches into his coat, and Natasha reaches onto the table, offering him a cigarette but -

“Oh you _bitch_.”

Too late.

“Whoops”, Natasha says, reaching under her dress and pulling out a gun in a move that Kate’s eyes can’t follow.

Before she can panic, she grabs her own knife and twists under Natasha before the mark can turn on her, pressing it to his throat with the ease of three days’ practise. “Don’t move, don’t scream. I don’t slip unless I’m pushed.”

Natasha has the gun pressing under her mark’s coat, into his gut, just beneath the ribcage. The club music stutters, three beats missed, then the sprinklers come on. The bar clears out in moments, everybody running for the exits. Kate presses the knife just into the pulse point  of her mark and leans into him, breathing heavily into his ear. “When I pull back, run. Or You won’t see tomorrow.”

He swallows and blinks his understanding. “Good.”

She pulls back and he stumbles forward, makes a grab for her and misses by too narrow a berth to leave her comfortable. She ducks down and kicks him square in the chest, knocks him back onto the floor and stands over him with the knife, hands steady as ever. “Wrong choice.”

“Get bored of the plan, huh?” Jess swings down from the ceiling, kicking the mark hard enough in the jaw it knocks him out cold.

“He was onto something. Watering down his drinks. I know danger when I, um, smell it.”

Natasha laughs, her mark as looking understandably fearful. “I’m assuming she learned that from the worst.”

Her mark goes down silently, and she doesn’t move, not even to flinch. Clint is holding an emptied syringe in the space he leaves behind. “I think I take offense to that. You did good Hawkeye, we were about to pull you out.”

“We got everything we needed. These guys and their respective bosses are getting locked the hell up. No nuclear weapons export for _you._ ” Jess squeezes Kate’s shoulders. “We’ll make an avenger out of you yet.”

Kate pulls off her wig and begins undoing the bobby pins, Natasha mirroring the move, shrugging off her role like some old coat, ready to burn. “Yeah,” she says, the minutes ageing her. “I’ll get right on that.”

 

**9/15**

 

Noh-Varr is holding her hand across the table, bruises on his knuckles and tiredness in his eyes.

“So, no more angsting about rejection - you want back on the team proper?”

He nods, fingers of his free hand drumming against the table to the tune of whatever sixties pop song is playing over the speakers.

“I can’t believe you brought me to a bar on oldies night to have this talk - actually that’s a lie. I can _completely_ believe you would do that.” Kate sighs and takes a long swig of her drink. Vodka is good for the soul sometimes.

He grins. “Old habits. I thought it might make you less upset. It was nicer when we would argue about music.”

She takes another drink. “It was, Marvel Boy, and then you did something that sucked.”

“I know, Kate, I’m very sorry.” He pushes his straw around in his glass. “I do not wish to hurt you again.”

The dimmed lights in the club make her bitterness seem more deserved, even if the pathetic look on his face dampens it. “You won’t. We aren’t going back to how things were.”

“I didn’t expect to.” He looks down at the table, at her half-drained glass, how the scattering of salt jumps with the bass. “Would you like another drink?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Kate sighs. “Noh-Varr, you’re a good fighter. I’d like to say you’re a good person, even if you were a shitty boyfriend.” He squirms, looks worse off in the sporadic flashes of light, bruises yellowing as the moment pass. “But I’m not going to kick you out of the team. That would be a shitty leader thing. And I don’t plan on being that.”

He looks up at her through his lashes, smiling. “Thank you, Kate.” He turns her hand over in his and she pulls back. “Are you sure I can’t buy you another drink?”

“One more”, she says, watching relief flood his face as he climbs from his seat.

“I can do that. Same again?”

She scrubs one hand through her hair and grabs his arm with the other. “Wait a sec, will you?”

He sits down slowly, wary. She can hardly blame him. “I feel like this could be a trap.”

“No trap!” Kate raises her hands in surrender. “I just wanted to talk for a little while more.” She finishes her drink. “We’re gonna be amicable exes, Noh-Varr, but you’re just a teammate now, okay? I don’t take well to people making me doubt myself, and I won’t stand you hurting me again.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? I’m not doing the will-they-won’t-they battle couple thing again. I’m over it. Got some better gigs lined up.” She rests her head on her hands, massaging her temples, and when she looks at him, Noh-Varr is still smiling, slightly. “You always liked that I was sensible, huh?”

He stands again. “It suits you. And yes, I do understand. Now, drinks?”

“Please.” He strides off, still full of his signature bravado and she rolls her eyes, digging around for her phone. _Pick me up in an hour,_ she fires off.

Clint’s reply buzzes back almost to the second. _You ok?_

 _Yeah,_ she types. _I’m fine._

 

**10/2**

 

“Aw, no mojitos?” Kate pouts and the drinks menu and slumps against Clint as he wraps the wound on his arm.

“Your taste in alcohol is frankly appalling, Katie-Kate”, he winces and Lucky yelps at his feet. “See, even Pizza Dog agrees.”

“How did you swindle him in, anyway?” She scritches behind Lucky’s ear and is rewarded with a short bark of encouragement, tail thumping against the floor. She loves her stupid dog.

“All above board, scout’s honour. Welcome to Bed-Stuy’s best and only premier dog-friendly establishment.” He sits up, and the blood is seeping through the bandage already but Clint doesn’t even wince. “Aw, no fireball whiskey?”

Kate rolls her eyes. “Clearly you know the place well.”

He pokes the bruise on her shoulder. “Go be useful and buy us something cold and alcoholic.”

Kate smiles and salutes.  “Aye-aye, Hawkguy.”

*

When they’re matched by the drink, Clint scrubs a hand down his face and sinks back into the vinyl seat, cocking his head at her. Kate can feel her own skin becoming sore and bruised, the warmth of her blood immediate under the surface of her skin. Clint’s movements are becoming slow and numbed. Everything is stupid-dangerous and sometimes they still risk it, sometimes they still sit in public with their heads swimming and their blood on the seats.

Sometimes it’s all they can do.

“You’re still sober and I don’ like it.” Clint pokes her again, that same purpled spot on her left shoulder getting darker and sore.

“It’s called politely drinking champagne until everyone leaves the party then taking a bottle home.”

Lucky makes a small sound and rests his head on Kate’s knee, warm-soft even through her pants and she scritches behind his ear, leaving her hand there on the top of his head like an anchor between her body and the floor.

Clint is quiet. The candles along the windows flicker and change the lines on his face and hers too, she guesses, the dim light has the whole place cast in an dusky colour, red and brown and heavy. _More drinks,_ she thinks, or she says. It’s that kind of night.

*

“No, no, no. Put me down, Old Man.” Kate kicks at Clint’s chest where he’s lifting her up, Lucky’s lead wrapped around his wrist.

“You’re t-too drunk to walk straight, Kate-Kate. I’m being a responsible adult and carrying you to the cab.”

He smiles at her and his cheek has gone from yellow to purple in the last hour, swollen and sore-looking. His face is red with pain or alcohol but by now she doubts he could tell her which. “For the record I’m more sober than you. I’m the one that _called_ the damn cab.”

In his arms she can really feel her bruises, and the little rips and over-stretched pains that ripple through her muscles, tense but relaxed enough for the damage to really sink in.

It wasn’t a fair fight. The win was by chance more than skill, a knife’s edge balance. Thinking about it makes her feel more ill than the alcohol does.

“This ‘s NYC, you don’t _call_ cabs, they sense when you need them to come.” Clint opens the door with one hand and dumps her hard on the seat, Lucky climbing in after and licking at her nose. He gets in the other side, not the front, and falls asleep with his head on her shoulder.

*

Clint’s apartment is nothing like home.

It’s nothing like home the team hq is nothing like home, the way LA is nothing like home. She jumps straight onto his couch and tosses a bottle of whiskey between her hands without spilling a drop. Archer’s reflexes have won her so many bar bets, it’s unbelievable.

Clint comes bowlegged into the room and flops down beside her, handing over a box of cookies procured from the kitchen. “Hard day.”

Kate takes a swig and pinches the cookie from between Clint’s fingers. “You saved my ass today.” She pats him on the head and he shoves her off, mussing her hair and stealing the whiskey. He tips her head onto his shoulder. “I’m glad you’ve got my back.”

“‘s what we do.” He eats another cookie. “You’re my team, Katie. Your life, my life, same thing.”

Lucky howls from the floor, pressing his warm body into both their legs.

“Can I stay here tonight?”

Clint throws a cookie at her. “Like I’d let you home in this state.”

Kate smiles and kicks her feet up, legs spread over Clint’s thighs. “I call your room.”

 

**3/1**

 

“Everyone’s hats held on to?” America yells kicking the dead air and opening a portal. “Move it or lose it, motherfuckers.”

The other side of the star is a dark, weird place. The room is not a room but somehow a sentient place full of shadows and light. The hairs on Kate’s arms stick up like her blood, not even the air, is charged. The place is filled with that eerie, unlike atmosphere; how the wildlife creeps into asphalt at an intersection, or a roadside diner in the middle of the night - somehow both unsettling and a comfort.

The decor is grey except that it drips down in supersaturated colours; continuous and dizzying.

America grins and yells for shots and between blinks they have a table lined up with drinks, bar staff who disappear quickly as they come.

It’s kind of terrifying.

“Oh man this is _awesome,”_ Tommy says, slapping Kate on the back; and as she grabs his arm and spins under it to grab the first drink, she really has to agree.

*

“You ever done an interdimensional pub-crawl?” America asks, twisting Kate’s hair around her pinkie.

“Did something similar on the astral plane once”, Billy says, frowning. “It was a trip. Not necessarily a good one.”

“That sounds stupid and dangerous.” Teddy presses his forehead into the curve of Billy’s neck. “Pretend I’m being stern and mad and you for being stupid and dangerous.”

David groans and drops his head onto Kate’s shoulder, pressed close up along the side America isn’t occupying. “That’s totally rational and a great way to deal with conflict.” Kate pats him on the leg. Tommy is just sliding back up to the table, a dangerous number of drinks balanced between his arms.

He grins at them all and takes the first drink. “What did I hear about dimension-hopping? Because I am good to _go._ ”

“Hey Princess?” America whispers, pulling a glass toward her mouth, tongue flicking out to catch the straw. “Wanna see an alien gay bar?”

*

Kate throws back something pink and that tastes nothing like candyfloss and waves at the admittedly adorable waitress that slid it towards her, four eyes bright in the darkness. Kate is decidedly tipsy.

David is thrown over her shoulder, reaching across the bar for his own drink, laughing into her ear. “That guy, Kate, with the... I’m not sure it has a name, but that one, he’s making eyes at me.”

Kate shrugs him off her and he rolls onto the bar, leaning but managing to stay on his feet. Kate blushes at the waitress’s laugh, and tips her head back, downing the last dribbles of her drink. “Another, please.” She turns to David and pokes him in the chest. “Go get ‘em, tiger. You’re cramping my style.”

He cocks his head, eyeing her skeptically. “Right, of course I am.” He elbows her in the side and nods to where the others are dancing, Tommy trying his best to tempt Teddy from Billy, one had on his hip, America in the centre of the floor tangled with more people than she can count, Noh-Varr with a dancer on either arm. “At the risk of sounding like _you,_ lighten up.”

The waitress hands her another drink, this one blue-green and luminous, a galaxy swirl in a glass. Every inch of this place is unreal. She takes a sip, and her eyes slip shut, everything bittersweet and gorgeous. “This place is amazing.”

“That it is. Now go dance.” David pushes her out onto the floor and turns toward the guy on his left and smiles. “You’re cramping my style.”

“Why am I afraid I’ll get all the sordid deta-” before she finishes the sentence a hand reaches from inside the swarm of bodies and drags her in, swallowed by the sweat and movement.

“Miss me?” Tommy grins at her and twirls her around in his arms.

Kate smiles and finishes her drink, the glass falling to nothing as it empties, and Tommy pulls her in tighter, nose brushing against her cheek. “I seem to remember this happening before.”

Tommy laughs and pulls her in even tighter. “I’m very consistent.”

They dance for what seems like hours but is probably minutes, time a mangled concept in this place, Kate’s body light and free as air. She feels without form, without any constrictions, just the music and her soul. She can’t stop moving, wouldn’t dream of it. Every stress and tension blurs with the beat, spinning her totally free from responsibility.

Kate has never been uncareful.

He eyes slip shut and she loses track of the world, everything but sound falling apart to the beat.

“Hey, Hawkeye”, someone touches the body she doesn’t have - her hands limp but resisting. Must keep dancing. “Kate.”

She keeps moving, eyes closed, everything white light and focused noise. Hands find her knees and waist, and she's weightless, bodiless. “Come on, Princess, no more trance for you.”

“What?” And - oh, America is carrying her off the floor, into a small dark room that seeps through the fog in her head and draws it away. “Oh shit, what happened?”

“Trance music”, America is stroking her head which is actually quite nice, a dangerous kind of soothing that makes her feel like slipping away again. “ _Actual_ trance music. If you’re already drinking and used to completely absorbing the details of a room - _ahem -_ it can cause some loss of control.”

“Well fuck.” She looks around the blackness, huffing in the cool air until it lays waste to the dizziness, America letting her down, still propped up against her body. “Did I hurt anyone?”

“Tommy’s feelings, maybe, he was really hoping to engage you.” America’s smile is fiendish and Kate isn’t sure how to take it. Still, she lets America take her weight.

“Well that would never have worked, this is a gay bar after all.” The tiredness is draining from her body almost fast enough to allow her use of her legs.

America grins. “Glad to see you’re broadening your horizons, Hawkeye.” She presses a kiss to Kate’s cheek, the opposite side to where Loki had, before. “Are you ready to give it another try?”

“Team straight-ally is up and running.”

America squeezes her hip. “Then let’s go, Princess. The night is young.”

 


End file.
